I wrote this (the poem) this morning, almost as an affirmation.
Today, life feels like a carpet of green untouched lawn.
Hey…it’s early! Give it time! ;)
Nah, actually the end of March always brushes my heart like the softest, roundest blusher brush.
It was this time 12 years ago that I discovered I was pregnant with my son. Those early days when I hadn’t told anyone at all, were the wobbly legs of a new lamb.
I would walk to work, talking to my baby who was all but a jumping bean in my cradling womb. I was so full of eagerness, excitement and a little anxiety.
The hedgerows were alive with nesting birds, their beaks laden with twigs.
Each sky shared my mood. The grimacing grey would gurgle drizzle in bloated clouds like an unpleasant mouthwash. This would mirror the brooding doom of my morning sickness. There we would stride, in solidarity until the most magnificent toffee hammer of dazzling sun would appear - splitting my emotions into all these strange shards of light that grew as a crystal cocoon around us.
As the daffodils leaned in to hear me chatting (because I really did speak aloud to him!) the Doris Day song ‘Secret Heart’ would always come to mind, the bit where she talks about telling her secrets to the daffodils!
This morning, as I remembered those precious moments, I wrote this. To remind myself of the hope around me.
The bellies filling, yellow spilling.
If you are feeling a little low, please read it and taste the stripes of life with me.
The wisps of everyday wonder that whisper so softly to our soul, yet are the most important language any of us can become fluent in.
Song of Spring
I rise, a lark with brightened heart
Alive on silver wings
Kiting my spark, a trail of foil
The blaze of child I bring
I trust the broom of bristling March
To oust each sorry voice
As willow twists, the birch shall arch
To scaffold cherry choice
.
Clean chimes of cheep claim every street
With sweeping bleeds of sound
I hear the flap of happy sheets
Taut washing line and wind
Old cobbles dapple, grim to gem
Host rays peeping from branches
As dew is ferried, root to stem
To blossom apple chances
.
I have survived the crushing dark
And now, I welcome Spring
The swollen gold in daffodils
Lights beggars, babies, Kings
The rolling hills bowl foals of play
Who dares run with wild horses?
My eyes are wide, see banquet day
Fresh joy, abundant sources
“I have survived the crushing dark” makes me think of how I have survived the covid shitshow and am still here calling out the insanity of it all!
Awesome and bang on point for me right now thank you lovely! 💚🤍💫